William McKinley's School for the Gifted
by whimsee
Summary: A Songbird and a Vixen are a very unlikely match, but in a world of mutants, it's what's to be expected.


**May be a one-shot only, depends on how you guys like it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry could still remember the day she arrived there. She held her parents' hands and looked up at the men with pleading eyes. "Do I really have to go?"<p>

They looked stressed and tired, if the bags under their eyes and their unkempt appearance were any means of proof. One nodded solemnly while the other knelt down and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry sweetie, but you have to."

She was eight years old and already out of the house. The giant establishment seemed daunting from her height and world-view and all she wanted to do was turn around and go back to living with her parents at their little apartment. But she had an accident and needed to go here now, or at least, that's what they told her.

The sign had read William McKinley's School for the Gifted, as did the door, and it only intimidated her more. She didn't understand why she was here. What she did was a onetime thing, right? She could control herself, it wouldn't happen again.

She remembered the kids in her class crying and covering their ears at show and tell as she belted out a musical classic. The little girl thought they were just overreacting until the windows started shattering and a few of the students had passed out. Blocking back the memories, she shut her eyes tight and grabbed the doorknob. The feeling of her Daddy's hand leaving her shoulder made her feel so cold and the same time she creaked the door open, she could hear their retreating footsteps. They hadn't even said goodbye.

The brunette was looking up into kind eyes and well-groomed hair through her tears and she had never been more afraid nor more alone.

* * *

><p>Quinn Fabray's parents had tried; they had honestly tried to cure their daughter of her outrageous behavior. They attempted to make her sit down properly, remain in her seat when seated, be at only one place at a time, etc. When they had guests, they brushed it off as ADHD. When they took her places, they made sure she was on Ritalin. But she was unstable and it didn't take them long to realize it.<p>

Her mother held her in the back seat as her father frantically drove them there. Their daughter was sound asleep in protective arms, making soft noises humans refrain from doing. Judy was crying- she had been all night, but unlike her husband; she was doing this for Quinn. She wanted to have a moment with the girl, but she was asleep, as she needed to be. If they had decided to take her in the daytime, they would have never gotten her there. Or at least, they would forget _all _of her.

The older blonde checked the girl's arm once more- no ring like tattoos. They were safe. To busy herself and calm her frantic nerves, she opened the backpack they prepared for her. A single family photo, a pair of contacts in case she wanted to go into town, some clothes, bathroom essentials, and a book. That was it. She was leaving her only daughter with these items and going home to pretend like she either never had a child or that she had sent hers to an expensive dormitory school, only to see her on holidays, when in truth, she would never see her again.

Will Quinn be better when she was older? She would never know. Will she grow up just as beautiful as she always hoped? She would never know. Judy valiantly fought off tears and failed when her husband refused to park and merely put on the brakes in front of the school. He expected her to kick her daughter out and for them to leave before anyone recognized them.

Holding her slumbering daughter firmly in her arms and carrying her backpack on her shoulder, she left the rented car, for appearance sake, and walked up to the door. Once she knocked and a relatively young blonde with short hair answered, she handed her daughter over with only seven words. "Make sure she doesn't wake up soon."

And that was it: that was how she was left. An hour later, a small search squad had been sent to look for a girl on all fours who may be in more places than one.

* * *

><p>Santana Lopez hadn't gotten the luxury of having a true family before arriving at WMSFTG. She had been dropped at their doorstep days after her birth and one look in the mirror could tell why. She was angry at not being afforded what most kids had, even the kids at her school. While all were abandoned, many had parents before their arrival. She didn't.<p>

She spent her childhood with a harsh outlook on the world, as most like her did. It wasn't fair. Not even all the kids at school had obvious deformities like she did. She couldn't hide who she was for convenience. She couldn't leave the school and go to the city like most did on weekends.

So she had to find other means of fun. She started with animals when she was little (and not just because it made her friend happy), making them do things she found amusing, like walking on their hind-legs or dancing. Nothing harmful. Even as she reached ten years old, she never did anything bad with her gift. She only made sure she got what she wanted and forced people to comply.

But the only thing she wanted was to not look like this. Her tail twitched as she harshly pulled at her horns. Why couldn't they just come off?

* * *

><p>Brittany S. Pierce's family was very clingy and physically upset about letting their baby go. But the incident at the zoo showed them that maybe she was better off elsewhere. The secluded middle of the boondocks where a hardly heard of school resided sounded perfect. At their little girl's insistence, they made sure there was wildlife there too.<p>

The Pierce family was all tears and hugs as they stood before the building, not wanting to relinquish their darling, seven year old daughter. She smiled up at her parents, three brothers and one sister, her missing teeth prevalent and the bandage on her nose wrinkling up. "Can I still visit?"

"Oh, of course baby!" Her mother wailed, taking her into her arms and spinning her around, never wanting to let go. It took her father and two of her brothers to pry her arms off, and not long after that, he eldest brother took her off to the side.

"Do you remember the rules, Britt?"

She nodded, a look of concentration on her face as she counted them out on her fingers. "Make friends! Write home! Study hard!"

"What's the most important, Britt?"

"Umm… If I meet an animal, don't tell it to do anything, even if it will be fun!"

He smiled at her; he was going to miss his little sister and the life she brought to their home. Literally.

"I love you, Brittany."

The little blonde giggled and hugged his leg, wrapping her arms around him firmly. "I love you too!"

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was not like other boys his age. And this was disregarding his personal princess playhouse in the backyard. Burt knew there was something strange about him. It started with his outfit changing several times a day, almost at random. He would question his small son about it, but the only answer he would get was "it wasn't trendy enough".<p>

However, when Burt caught Kurt changing his clothes without physically putting them on, he was more than a little spooked. He could handle his son being gay. Hey, other parents went through the same thing every day. But he wasn't sure what to do about this. Would he accept his son? Of course he would. He just didn't know what to do about it.

Learning how to work that glowing foldable rectangle was trickier than he thought, but he had successfully looked up a place his boy could go. Naturally, Google had recommended several fictional places first.

Kurt stepped out of his father's car, a slightly timid nine year old, and looked up at the rooms that escaladed from building to building. It was a little off-putting. The employee at the front door seemed to calm his nerves though, the lanky teenager giving him a dopey smile.

That shirt didn't match though and with a mere glance, it was changed to something more suiting. Instead of getting frightened, the black-haired boy smiled even more and patted him on the back before ushering him in. Maybe this place would be good for him.

* * *

><p>Noah Puckerman was not surprised at being allowed to go to a school for people of importance only. He naturally knew he was better than everyone else. His mother would smack him over the head whenever he spoke in that manner, but she wasn't here now, was she?<p>

The cocky ten year old made it a mission to flirt with everyone who looked appealing to him. So when the large wooden doors opened, revealing a hesitant redhead, he put on his charming smile.

"Hey baby, care to show Puckasaurus around your room?"

The woman squeaked in surprise and turned red at his choice of words. Very brash for a boy his age. "N-Noah, is it?"

He looked up at her and smoothed over his mohawk with a smirk. "I go by Hot Stuff."

Thinking it was another questionable jab, she shook her head and ushered him in, guiding him into the main lobby with a hand on his back. She quickly recoiled though, when she felt the touch singe her skin.

"I meant it literally, babe."

* * *

><p>Sam Evans had received many rude jibes throughout his six years of life. Yes, his mouth was bigger than what was socially normal, but he felt like he didn't deserve everything he got. With a pout in place, he kept his eyes trained on his superhero comics. They all had tragic back stories, but they were never bullied like he was. It wasn't fair.<p>

"Daddy?"

"Mm?"

"Why am I different?"

His father frowned and looked over at the passenger seat, taking in the defeated look on his son's face. It broke his heart. "You aren't different, Sammy. Just better."

"Just better." The little boy whispered, nodding as his mop of dyed blonde hair fluttered.

"But just remember, Kiddo," his dad warned, smiling softly as he pulled up to the school. "No spitting on people. It doesn't hurt you, but it does hurt them, okay?"

"No spitting." Sam whispered again. He always took his dad's words to heart. "I love you." Wide, slightly hurt and somewhat scared blue eyes met a matching pair.

"I love you too, buddy."

* * *

><p>Dave Karofsky was a troubled little boy. His explosive anger usually kept people from ever knowing how kind he is. It was as though a part of him was dormant most of the time and all it took was something small to awaken it. His parents had put him through anger-management therapy and even martial arts to give him a way to vent his misunderstood emotions.<p>

No one knew why he was always so angry, not even himself, until he turned eight.

The neighborhood kid was being unnecessarily mean to him as he played with his little sister in the front lawn. He was throwing small rocks and calling him names and before either of them knew it, the kid was on the ground and some creature was on top of him.

It was chaos in the neighborhood and his family took pains to keep him hidden. But the idea of being forced into something and away from others infuriated Dave even more, turning him into this thing nearly every day.

He was unceremoniously dumped at William McKinley's doorstep after destroying his room for the fourth time that week. He had tears in his eyes when he heard wheels screeching away and the familiar twitch in his limbs started to scare him. But a kind shoulder by a woman who looked much like himself steered him away from transforming, and he was ever grateful.

* * *

><p>William McKinley's School for the Gifted was proud to host talented children of all ages and from all across the globe. Given their remarkable gifts, they were taught to use them for the greater good and become heroes of today. The most notable among them, by their codenames, were Songbird, Vixen, Wicked, er, Ducks, Vogue, Hot Stuff, Spit Fire, and Grizzly. Well-known and well-trained, this group of teenagers were McKinley's finest. However, they tended to do more harm than good to the school. Despite their ages and varying levels of expertise, they were still considered unstable.<p>

However, one woman, by the codename Wicked, was going to take things into her own hands very soon.


End file.
